Ron Weasley and the Sorcerer's Stone
by LaneyRhi
Summary: There are a lot of untold perspectives in the series. Read the first book here from the sidekick's point of view.
1. The Boy Who Defeated

Disclaimer—you know the drill. I don't own anything slightly related to Harry Potter, this is a work of fiction, it is not endorsed by JKR/Warner Bros., and I claim no rights to the trademarks.

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Molly Weasley was in the kitchen, quietly stewing French onion soup in a pot with her wand. Most meals she cooked in silence these days. The boys had learned to avoid her while she was busy—if she was working, her mind was occupied, but she had little patience for their petty quarrels. Bill did a good job of keeping them outside, and the only distractions Molly had from her housekeeping were the wails of Ginny, though her daughter's temperament was unusually mild for an infant. The days passed slowly, and with each one she worried that Arthur wouldn't come home from the Ministry.

Mr. Weasley worked in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office, a relatively new sector, which dealt with Muggle-baiting and the like. Arthur spent most of his time investigating strange occurrences in Muggle neighborhoods and then filing the tedious paperwork that went with it. The Ministry's attempts to staunch the flow of cursed and charmed trinkets, mostly from Knockturn Alley, had led them to appoint Arthur and his partner, Perkins, as the sole employees of the office.

Fred and George ran through the kitchen, still wearing their Halloween hats from the previous night. Molly barely looked up at them as the pounded up the stairs. Arthur was supposed to have been home from work over ten minutes ago, and he was very rarely late. Her fervor increased as she stirred the soup, and her face was obviously tense but trying not to show. Every time a noise was made in the yard, her eyes snapped up to check.

Finally, she heard a clicking from behind her and sighed with relief as Arthur's hand on the magical clock (if you could call it that) moved from "Work" to "Traveling" and finally settling on "Home." Molly called the boys inside to dinner and held the door open while her husband crossed the garden to the house. As he reached the Burrow's narrow walk, Molly saw that he was bounding. Arthur was positively beaming!

"What is it, Arthur?" Her voice was, surprisingly, distraught.

"I love you, Molly!" He kissed her, and they heard Bill and Charlie giggling with embarrassment from inside the house.

"Arthur, what is going on? Tell me!"

"Boys, go to your rooms. Your mother and I need to talk before supper." The boys, sensing that there was some important gossip, ran up the stairs but immediately snuck back down again to eavesdrop.

The two sat down at the worn kitchen table. Arthur just as quickly stood up and restlessly paced. "Molly," he began excitedly, "The war is over! You-Know-Who was defeated last night. He's gone. Molly, he's gone, and he's not coming back."

"Arthur, what on earth do you mean? How is he gone? What made him go away? Arthur!"

"It's all over the Ministry, Molly. That's why I was late. Ministry workers from the scene were telling the story to all the different departments. Bagnold called an emergency meeting. Word in the alley is that Dumbledore was there soon after, but he didn't get there in time to make things go differently.

"The story goes that You-Know-Who showed up in Godric's Hollow last night. Wound up on the street that Dumbledore grew up on, funnily enough. He doesn't live there any more, obviously, since he took the headmastership at Hogwarts. Do you know who the Potters are?"

"Do you mean Lily and James? Yes of course, everyone heard about them and Sirius Black last year when they saved Tom at the Leaky Cauldron. They do very well in a tight spot."

"Yes, Lily and James. Well, they were in hiding at their house. They knew You-Know-Who had it out for them. They've certainly made the front page of the Prophet enough to attract his attention. According to our men, Dumbledore himself put up his protection. Last night, You-Know-Who discovered where they were. He went to their house, broke in while they were getting ready for bed. Nobody knows what happened in that house, but it was totally destroyed."

"They killed him? They defeated You-Know-Who?" Molly was stunned. She could barely speak.

Arthur's face turned grave. "Ah, I wish it were as simple as that. James' body was found in the hallway. He was first. They found Lily in the second bedroom, the nursery. You know they have a son about Ron's age." Molly gasped, her eyes filling with tears. "She was on the ground in front of the crib. The child—Harry—wasn't in it. This is the strange part, Molly. _Harry wasn't there at all_."

"Was he kidnapped? What happened? I don't see how this means the war is over," Molly was not looking as excited as her husband.

"As far as they can tell, You-Know-Who did try to kill Harry. But the whole corner of the house was blown off. They know he was defeated because they found a set of robes next to Lily, along with _a wand_."

"He was completely destroyed? But what about Harry?"

"They found a note in his crib, written by Dumbledore. It said, 'I've taken Harry to a safe place. I will explain later. He is protected.'"

"Has he explained anything yet? That man!" Molly had an absurd expression on her face, as if she had just been told that they were moving to Mars.

"No. Nobody's heard a thing from him. The war is over, Molly, we've won! The Death Eaters are being rounded up as we speak!"

Molly finally realized what the implication of this was. Her face broke into a relieved smile and she started to cry. Neither of them paid attention to the smell of burning soup as Molly jumped up and they embraced, kissing and laughing. George ran in and hugged their legs, not quite sure what the hype was about, but jumping at the chance to see his parents happy for the first time in a very, very long time. They picked him up and dance him around the kitchen, while his brothers saw that he wasn't reprimanded and ran in to join them. The family laughed and cried, the children figuring out what was going on when their parents wouldn't stop repeating, "It's over! We've won! No more war!" They sounded quite like a Lennon press conference.

Molly ran up the stairs to get Ginny from her bedroom. The small girl smiled as her family celebrated. They feasted on soup and a hastily made, incredibly tasty cake.

All was well.


	2. The Vanishing Patience

**A/N**: Disclaimer. I don't claim rights to any registered trademarks, etc.

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Ron sat on his bed, staring at the face of the seeker of his favorite Quidditch team, the Chudley Cannons. His hair blended into the orange on the walls as he was still with a worried silence. June was nearly over, and his Hogwarts letter hadn't arrived yet. He told himself that his brothers hadn't gotten theirs, either, so there wasn't really anything to worry about. It wasn't a big deal, he was sure. But there was still that small seed of doubt that he couldn't shake…

What if Fred and George were right? Ron knew they were only teasing, but his greatest fear was that he wasn't good enough to get in. Ginny certainly wasn't helping, asking all sorts of questions and wondering aloud what it would be like to finally board that famous scarlet steam engine and disappear into the smoke as the train rounded the corner. He knew that he was being stupid. He was a pureblood, after all! If he wasn't going to be accepted, he wouldn't have accidentally turned Charlie's dragon figurine into a lizard when he announced that he was moving to Romania, and he certainly wouldn't have been able to lock his door by slamming it while he was trying to get away from George's singsong voice telling him that he was probably a squib.

Reassured from these memories, Ron sighed heavily and slouched down to the kitchen for lunch. His stomach rumbled as the smells of fresh bread, chicken, and steamed vegetables reached him. Mrs. Weasley was pulling several pot pies out of the oven, and the table was oddly empty now that Charlie was gone and Bill had returned to Egypt after a short visit. It was normal for Mr. Weasley to be absent, of course, because he was working, but it seemed that there had never been so much elbow room at the kitchen table.

"Mum, this smells amazing," Fred told Mrs. Weasley as they all sat around the scrubbed and well-loved wooden table. Fred and George were always joking and teasing, but the one thing they were never sarcastic about was the quality of their mother's cooking. It was amazing that they ate so much and yet all of the boys were still incredibly skinny. Their height must have had a part in that, which was odd seeing as neither of their parents was particularly lofty.

"When are the letters going to arrive?" Ginny asked, as she did at nearly every meal these days. It was beginning to be ridiculous.

"About a month now," Percy replied importantly, as if he was the one who determined the date that the letters were sent out. "I'm quite interested to see who gets the prefect's badges this year."

"Meaning whether or not _he_ gets it," George muttered under his breath, seemingly disgusted that his own brother would want such a position.

"George!" Mrs. Weasley looked annoyed, probably because this was about the twelfth time that they'd had this conversation that week. "If Percy is a prefect, it would be an honor. He'll be the third in the family. Perhaps he'll make Head Boy, too!"

"Mum, if he's prefect, can I go and visit him?" Ginny asked hopefully.

"Why on earth would being prefect mean that you would be allowed to visit him, Ginny? He'll be home for holidays, don't you worry." Mrs. Weasley has mistaken Ginny's anxiousness to get into the castle for already missing her brother. Ginny dropped her gaze to her plate, disappointed.

Ron could not have wished more for a month to pass quickly.

Dinner that night went much the same way. Mr. Weasley went on about a child who had nearly exposed the entire wizarding world by making the glass of a tank at the zoo disappear, Percy informed them all for the umpteenth time about the various responsibilities and privileges of a Hogwarts prefect, and Ginny whined about having to wait a whole year before she would be allowed to go.

"The snake is nowhere to be found, we had to do a memory charm on the zoo's director, and nobody can figure out where a boa constrictor could possibly want to go in the middle of London—"

"They have their own bathroom, you know, with a great big bath and all sorts of soaps, _and_ a special carriage on the train—"

"It's just not fair, Ron gets to go this year and I have to wait _twelve whole months…_"

Ron sat in silence as he ate his chicken. They had been having a lot of chicken lately. Mrs. Weasley tried to keep it discreet, but it was hard to avoid the fact that they had just over half of the chickens running around the yard as they had at the beginning of June. Ron suspected that his mother was trying to save money. School supplies weren't exactly cheap, especially when there were four boys to purchase them for. He knew that he would probably get his brothers' old robes, wand, and textbooks. His parents hadn't bought a new set of books until two years ago, when Fred and George both needed a set. Even course books for electives were bought at secondhand shops and then resold at the end of the year. His father loved his job, but Ron wished that he made a little more money. They always ate well, but Arthur Weasley had been offered a promotion more than once and on each occasion had turned down the proposal. He loved Muggles too much.

Ron's bedroom was nearly as loud as the kitchen at mealtimes, because his room was directly beneath the attic, where a ghoul had gotten in and settled down. The ghoul hated quiet and was constantly banging things with a pipe when he wasn't asleep. The result was a steady stream of clanging that Ron, though accustomed to, did not exactly appreciate. It didn't help him get to sleep with his nerves as heightened as they were. Even Quidditch in the apple orchard couldn't calm him down anymore, but that didn't matter, because Charlie, their fourth, was gone. Percy had no interest in sports and it was embarrassing to be on the same team as your kid sister, though Ron had to admit, Ginny was a lot better than Fred and George gave her credit for.

Sleep came slowly that night.


	3. Letters from Hogwarts

**A/N**: I do not claim any rights to Harry Potter or related materials, registered trademarks, etc., etc., etc.

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_Mr. R. Weasley_

_The Highest Bedroom_

_The Burrow_

_Ottery St. Catchpole_

_Devon_

It had finally arrived.

The letter was here. Ron was holding that thick parchment envelope in his hands. The green ink that he had longed for was right before his eyes. This was real.

Fred, George and Percy all ripped open their letters, by now accustomed to the sudden delivery and yellowed envelopes. Fred and George handed their mother their Hogsmeade permission forms, looking over the course books for their new elective classes. Percy was proudly pinning his new prefect's badge onto his shirt while his mother gushed and the twins rolled their eyes. Ginny sat beside Ron, watching with wide eyes as he ran his finger slowly over the purple wax seal on the back. The large H, surrounded by the four house mascots, stamped so nonchalantly onto the back of his acceptance letter. Did they know when they put it there how much stress it caused him? Carefully, not wanting to rip the parchment, Ron slid his finger under the lip and pulled gently until the wax came up. Sliding out the two pieces of parchment, Ron read the first line reverently.

"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry…"

Those words were filled with so much magic that Ron could barely breathe. Finally he exhaled, worry and doubt falling from his shoulders as he realized that _he was going_.

Suddenly, George ripped the letter from his hands. "Hey!" He yelled, snatching at it.

"Why so quiet, Ronnykins? Didn't you get accepted?"

"George, if he got accepted, I might be inclined to admit that we are related."

"You'd call him your brother?"

"I said related, I didn't say that closely."

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley cut in. "Give Ron his letter back. Congratulations, we all knew you'd get in! Your father will be so proud!"

Ron took the letter back and tried to smooth out the crumples. Carefully folding it again, he slid it back into the envelope and tucked it safely into his pocket. Ginny turned her attention to Percy's shiny badge instead. He wouldn't look at his list here. He didn't want Fred and George taking it again. He knew what was on it, anyway; he had read every single one of his brothers' first-year letters.

After he had finished his eggs and sausage (not chicken, thankfully), Ron retreated up the five flights of stairs to his bedroom. Closing the door, he took the letter and his list of required books and supplies out from the thick envelope, reading again what he had seen five times before: _Standard Book of Spells, Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi._ Wand, robes, cauldron, scales. The list was long, but Ron knew that he probably wouldn't be getting all-new anything.

There was a knock on the door and Percy came in, carrying something behind his back. Even though Percy was a prat and was much too stuck up for his own good, he was probably the only one in the house who understood how badly Ron wanted to go to Hogwarts.

"'Sup, Perce?"

"I just wanted to congratulate you on getting into Hogwarts, Ron."

"Thanks. My name's been on the list since I was born, just like yours, though, so it's nothing special."

"Still. I wanted to give you something." Ron was wary. Percy wasn't exactly the most creative gift-giver.

"What is it?" From behind his back, Percy took what he was holding and showed it to Ron. It was a cage containing his pet rat, Scabbers.

"I know mum and dad can't really afford to get all of us a pet, so I thought you might like the rat."

"Percy," Ron said, grateful for the sentiment but a little skeptical, "didn't dad give you that for Christmas a few years ago? Are you sure I'll be able to keep it alive?"

"Ron, if you're good enough to get into Hogwarts, you're capable of taking care of a rat. All he does is sleep anyway."

"Thanks, Perce."

"You're welcome."

He left the room. Percy wasn't one that got along very well with rowdy siblings, but he knew how much Hogwarts meant to Ron. He probably mistook Ron's anxiousness for acceptance as 'fervor for learning' or some other prude-like nonsense.

Now that he was in for sure, the next challenge presented itself: the sorting. "It hurts a lot," was all that George had been able to tell him, and while he was sure that that wasn't true, he couldn't help but get butterflies. He knew Fred's rattling off about a troll was complete tosh, but Charlie had just chuckled and declined to comment on that one. Ron didn't want to ask Percy. He could remember Bill telling wild stories about flying around the castle on a dragon to find special treasure, but his mother's scoffs made it clear that nothing quite as exciting was involved. As long as he wasn't in Slytherin, he supposed he would be alright. Even Hufflepuff seemed acceptable next to Slytherin.

It was hard to find things to do now that the hype was over. Acting on reflex, he walked down to the shed in the yard and retrieved Charlie's old broom. It was unfortunate that he wouldn't be allowed to bring a racing broom to school this year—not that it would do much good anyway. Fred and George used the school brooms most of the time, because the ones they had at home weren't exactly top of the line. It wasn't uncommon to be lapped by bumblebees while circling their apple orchard. Mounting the broom, Ron kicked off and rode slowly through the trees to the paddock where they played. He did a few laps and then started trying to catch apples, but it was difficult because he was alone. Throwing them to himself was not an easy thing to do.

Landing, he wandered back to the garden and locked the broom in the shed. Hoping that his mother had lunch ready by now, he went inside and waited for his father to come home.


	4. Keeper of the Brooms

**A/N**: Standard line, I don't have rights to or claim to own anything registered, trademarked, patented, or copyrighted by JKR and Warner.

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It was storming when Ron woke up on Tuesday. The gray sky outside was blurred by the fat drops of rain running down the window. The ghoul upstairs was fairly quite now that the weather was beating sufficient noise onto the roof of the Burrow. Sitting up, his Hogwarts letter and Dumbledore's chocolate frog card fell off of his lap. He had fallen asleep comparing the achievements noted on each. Carefully placing them on his bedside table, Ron stood up, stretched, yawned, and noted his hunger. After donning his slippers and dressing gown, he began his morning trek down to the kitchen.

He walked in to the smell of toast, jam, eggs, ham, and coffee. His mother was at the window, helping Errol back onto his perch. The owl had seemingly just returned from the long journey to Hogwarts with their letter telling the faculty that they would, in fact, be attending that year. Every journey was too long for Errol. He was a very raggedy thing, but Ron liked him. He and Scabbers got on well.

Mr. Weasley was sitting at the table reading the morning _Prophet_, which was sporting a large picture of a golden-haired man smiling and winking quite a lot in a very cheesy, arrogant fashion. The title announced that a man had recently won _Witch Weekly_'s Most Charming Smile Award for the fourth time, a feat that none had yet achieved. The subscript noted that he was well on his way to a fifth nomination. Mr. Weasley appeared to have skipped over the article altogether.

"Any breaking news, father?" Percy asked as he sat with a plate piled with eggs and toast.

"Yes, what is the state of things today, beloved duddy?" Fred asked in his most posh and sarcastic tone.

"Not particularly, boys," Arthur said, ignoring his son's mockery. "It's mostly tedious columns, editorials about cauldron thickness, you know. There was a small piece that caught my eye, though; apparently, it's Harry Potter's birthday today."

Ginny giggled.

"Ginny, you've never even met him, you've never even _seen_ him, so why do you have a crush on him?" George asked, smirking. Ginny said nothing, but smiled wide.

"She has a thing for scars," Fred told his brother, "especially when they're as stormy as today's forecast."

"He is an important man!" Ginny laughed as she loudly defended herself.

"Man? Ginny, he turned eleven today. He's Ron's age. He's not a man." Mr. Weasley looked a little uncomfortable about where the conversation was heading.

"He defeated You-Know-Who. I don't care how old he is." Ginny continued to laugh, taking the whole conversation very lightly, while Fred muttered "desperate…" under his breath.

After Mr. Weasley left for work, Ron was cleaning Scabbers' cage in his room when his mother came in holding a large bundle. "Some of your school supplies," she said as she placed them on the bed. "I'll bring you up your father's old trunk in a moment. Here are some old robes of Bill's, I've just washed them, and Charlie asked for a new wand when he became Head Boy, so you can have his old one. George says he'll let you have his first-year textbooks, since they're newest. That's all we have that we can reuse. Later this week, I'll take you boys into Diagon Alley to get the rest of your supplies." She said this very matter-of-factly without taking a breath. After promising to at least buy him some brand-new scales (Ron wanted to go to school with one thing that was his, and his alone), she retreated back downstairs to find him a trunk.

She had done her best to mend the seams that had begun to come apart and repair the damage done to the books by a year of George, but it was hard to deny that it was all secondhand. Ron knew that he should be happy for what he had, but he knew that this year would probably be a constant stream of wanting what his classmates had. It had never really bothered him, probably because he was fairly secluded out in the country, but he had a feeling that being poor wouldn't go over well with a bunch of teenagers.

His brothers had all done fine. Even Percy had friends—at least, Percy must have people that he talked to. If they could do it, he could to. Maybe he was wrong, and nobody cared how much money you had. Ron knew that the rich old pureblood families were usually the ones with the popular children. Well, the Weasleys weren't rich, but they were old blood. Ron's family was pureblood as far back as you could trace, even if his father loved everything Muggle. He told himself that he'd be fine. _As long as I get into Gryffindor,_ he thought to himself, _I'll do fine. If I just get into that house, I'll have people like me to be friends with_. He supposed Hufflepuff wouldn't be too bad, but if he were to be placed in Slytherin, he didn't know what he would do. Probably ask for a transfer. There was no way that Ron was getting into Ravenclaw. He didn't have enough motivation to be into things like wit and learning.

Fred yelled up the stairs that they were going out to play some Quidditch, so Ron ran down to catch up with them as they walked out to the shed to retrieve their brooms. As they passed the first floor landing, Ginny poked her head out of her room and jabbed at them for not letting her play with them. They were taking Percy with them, but Quidditch wasn't really a girl's sport, so they never let Ginny play. She watched sometimes, and cheered from the ground.

Percy didn't do much, but he was an okay keeper for Ron to practice on, and Fred and George often used him as a target for their beater's bats, which Mr. Weasley had gotten them for their last birthday. They were bats that had once belonged to Ludo Bagman, a coworker of Arthur's and a former professional Quidditch player. Mr. Weasley had bought the bats off of him for an apparently very reasonable price.

They played until the sun went down and Mrs. Weasley called them in to dinner.


	5. Diagon Alley

**A/N**: I know these first few chapters may have been slow; Harry and Ron meet in the next chapter, so that should give them some more spice—and I'll have some pre-written dialogue/plot to help me!

Standard disclaimer of trademarks and copyrights.

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Ron yawned and stretched as his mother left the room holding her wand with the tip illuminated. The sun's first few rays were peeking over the hills into his room. Morning had come too soon, but the smell of bacon was wafting up the stairs, making Ron's stomach rumble. He quickly changed, thudding down the steps while he pulled a sweater over his head. His brothers were sitting around the table, rubbing their eyes and watching Mrs. Weasley's frying pan hungrily. She put a plate in front of each of them, and they dug in. Ginny padded quietly into the kitchen and sat beside Ron. Why they had to wake up so early to go shopping was beyond him, but he was excited to get out of the house. There wasn't much to do in the Muggle world when you were trying not to give away the fact that your family was one of magic.

After breakfast was finished and the table was cleared, the six of them gathered around the fireplace. Careful not to use too much, Ron took a handful of floo powder and shouted "Diagon Alley!" after Percy disappeared into the emerald flames. Several claustrophobic moments later, he stepped unsteadily out of the fireplace in the Leaky Cauldron. Percy handed him a clothes brush to knock the soot from his body and he moved out of the way for George to step out from the hearth. Tom smiled at them from the bar as the family moved through the pub to the small brick wall which served as the entrance to the wizarding world hidden in the middle of London.

Mrs. Weasley took Ginny to get some gold from Gringotts, shouting instructions not to let Fred and George into Knockturn Alley at Percy as they made their way down the street. The morning sun was just starting to warm the air as the four brothers sleepily entered Flourish and Blotts, looking for Percy's fifth-year course books and Fred and George's new elective books. They were in the third year, and so were beginning a few more exciting courses. Ron followed them to the secondhand section, looking for a single title: _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_. The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was, as he or she had been every year for some time now, a new professor. With each new teacher came a new required textbook.

Just after they had all found their books, Mrs. Weasley came in, daughter in tow. They paid for the merchandise and left the shop. Percy was given a small sack of coins with which to buy Ron some potions supplies, so they headed to the apothecary while the twins followed their mother to the Owl Emporium—Errol was out of treats.

The witch in the apothecary was very nice, and gave them a discount on Ron's new scales because it was his first year (Ron secretly thought that it was because she saw his patched jeans and took pity on him).

"I'll throw in a set of glass phials as well," she said croakily, giving them a toothy smile.

"Thank you so much, ma'am," Percy said, smiling and even bowing a little as they exited. "Well, Ron, we've got about enough left to get your telescope. Charlie left his cauldron when he moved, so mum says you'll be getting that. Charlie had a very high-quality cauldron, it's very durable. Nice and thick," Ron raised his eyebrows as he listened to his brother.

The secondhand store they entered had a distinct smell of dust. It was evident that business was not very fast in here. The shopkeeper came up and asked them what they needed.

"My brother, Ron, needs a telescope. He's starting school this year."

"Ah! A Hogwarts prospect! Well, congratulations, my boy, let's see what we can do…" Ron smiled at the man as he led the way to the back of the shop.

Most of the astronomy supplies that were there were either books or broken. There were a few working telescopes left in the inventory, but most were out of their price range. "We're not looking for something _antique_," Ron said to the man, "we're looking for something functional."

The man seemed to understand that they were on a budget and nodded, picking up a medium-sized black telescope. "It needs a small bit of greasing," he told them, "but it's all in working condition; no scratches on the lenses. A man brought it in yesterday. He's had it since school and simply had no use for it anymore. It can be yours for twenty galleons."

"That's fair," Percy said jovially as he fished the required amount from the coin purse. They thanked the man and exited onto the cobbled street. "Mum said to meet up at Ollivander's." The two of them turned in the direction of the wandmaker's and set off.

Upon entering the shop, Ron saw that there were boxes all over the floor behind the counter. "What happened in here?" He asked as he approached his mother at the counter. Fred's wand needed some small repairs now that the unicorn tail hair was actually visible at the end of the wand. Mr. Ollivander smiled briefly at him and flicked his wand behind him, instantly sending all of the strewn boxes back to their proper shelves.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he wheezed. "Let's have a look at this wand you need repairing. Ah, yes, the wand of Mr. Weasley… I note that its ownership has been inherited, however?"

"Yes, Fred uses it now, Arthur's father left it to him when he passed." Mrs. Weasley smiled at the knowledge that Mr. Ollivander possessed about the things that he sold.

"Ah, I'm sorry to hear that," he said gravely. "I trust it does you well, young Mr. Weasley?" he asked, eyeing Fred.

"What? Oh, er, yes, very well, sir, thanks." Fred and George had been whispering in a corner.

What they were planning, Ron didn't know, but there was one think he was sure of: it was going to make his year at school a lot more interesting…


	6. The Journey from Platform 9 and 34

**A/N**: Ron meets Harry in this chapter! Yay! Hopefully, it'll give some more interesting material to you. It's also quite a bit longer, simply because there was more to write about.

Disclaimer: I know that much of the dialogue from this chapter was taken directly from the books. I do not claim any right to what JKR has written, it was used in an unauthorized fashion in order to remain as canon as possible. This is a work of fan fiction and I do not own names, settings, etc.

Ron was not a morning person, but he was awake and ready very early on the morning of September first. He could hear someone moving downstairs, but he wasn't sure who it was. The first rays of sun were poking over the horizon, tinting the sky pink. Ron hadn't gotten much sleep the night before, he was too nervous. Trying not to wake the whole house up, Ron stood up and pulled on a pair of jeans from the clean pile. His trunk was packed (mostly by his mother) and sitting in the corner of the room. Once he had on a fresh shirt and jacket, he began to pace. It was too early for anyone else to be awake, though he suspected that the noises coming from below were Ginny, just as restless as he, even though she had another year before it was her turn to go.

Ron had repacked his trunk five times by the time his mother came upstairs to fetch him. She pulled out her wand and levitated the trunk down the stairs after him as he slowly made his way to the kitchen. His sister was already sitting, bright-eyed, at the table. Mr. Weasley was outside, bringing the family car around. Ron laughed a little at his father's Ford Anglia—he was sure that it was not simply the Muggle car that Arthur Weasley pretended it to be. His wife seemed to realize that, too, huffing as she looked out the window over her pan of fried eggs.

After breakfast, they somehow managed to fit the seven of them into a five-passenger car with plenty of room to spare. The ride was quiet, as Fred and George were still half asleep. They reached King's Cross by half past ten on the dot, and Mr. Weasley took the car to work after unloading the luggage and hugging his four boys goodbye until December.

Wheeling their carts through the crowded station, Mrs. Weasley complained about the stuffiness. "Every year, it's just the same, packed with Muggles, of course. It was just the same when I was in school. Now, what's the platform number?"

"Nine and three-quarters!" Ginny was excited to offer anything to this trip. She had known the number since she was six. "Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first." Percy wheeled his cart, his owl's cage perched precariously atop it, so that he was facing the barrier. Walking nonchalantly, he was given cover by a group of American tourists as he crossed into the magical world hidden behind a seemingly average brick wall. "Fred, you next," Mrs. Weasley ordered, as Fred acted offended and pretended to be George. Mrs. Weasley apologized, and then realized that they were goofing off.

"Only joking, I am Fred," he chortled, quickly passing through the barrier. George followed immediately. Ron was about to start off, his heart pounding, when a black-haired boy about his age approached from where he had been watching shyly a few feet away.

"Excuse me," he said, eyes down.

"Hello, dear. First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." Ron shuffled as the boy eyed him with some curiosity. Stammering a little, the boy began to ask a question, but Mrs. Weasley knew the answer already. "How to get onto the platform?" She had completed his thought, and he nodded profusely. Mrs. Weasley explained to him about the hidden barrier and how to walk straight through it. The boy looked at her a bit like she was a lunatic, but he was alone and Ron suspected that he was Muggle-born. It wasn't his fault that he didn't know. Once he was through, Ron's mother smiled at him, indicating that it was his turn. He passed through the barrier with his trunk and found his brothers waiting in a group by the train.

"What took you so long?" Percy asked briskly.

"Mum was helping another kid get through the barrier," Ron answered as his brothers chuckled. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny came up behind them, panting a bit. They had taken the barrier at a run.

Fred and George loaded everyone's trunks onto the train, helped the black-haired boy do the same, and returned, beaming, to their siblings just as Mrs. Weasley was rubbing some dirt off the end of Ron's nose and looking wildly around for Percy. "He's coming now," Fred said, jerking his head toward the eldest of the five there, already in his robes with his prefect's badge pinned arrogantly to his chest.

"Can't stay long, mother, I'm up front. The prefects have got two compartments to themselves."

"Oh, are you a _prefect_, Percy? You should have said something, we had no idea," Fred mocked, feigning surprise. The joking continued as Ron smoothed his hair and coughed a bit in the smoke from the train. Percy was walking away once Ron regained control of his lungs.

"Now, you two—this year, you behave yourselves. If I get one more owl…" Ron zoned out as his mother scolded the twins, only focusing when George changed tone.

"Guess who we just met on the train? You know that black-haired boy who was near us at the station? Know who he is?" Ron noticed that exact boy pull his head back through a window as George spoke.

"Who?"

"_Harry Potter!_"

Ginny squealed and begged her mother to let her onto the train at this.

"You've already seen him, Ginny, and the poor boy isn't something you goggle at in a zoo. Is he really? How do you know?"

Fred talked animatedly about seeing the famous lightning-bolt scar on his forehead and pondering whether or not he remembered You-Know-Who.

"I forbid you to ask him, Fred. No, don't you dare. As though he needs reminding of that on his first day at school."

Fred responded submissively, but it was drowned out by the whistle of the train. Ron hugged his mother and his sister quickly, then jumped on the train and waved back at them as they disappeared from sight. Ginny ran to keep up, but dropped back as the train gained speed.

Just to Ron's luck, the first compartment that was not full contained only the black-haired boy from the station. "Anyone sitting here?" The boy—Harry Potter—shook his head and Ron sat down. Fred and George poked their heads in to let Ron know where they would be, said hello to Harry, and went on their way. "Are you really Harry Potter?" Ron couldn't help himself.

The boy nodded. "Oh—well, I thought it might be one of Fred and George's jokes. Have you really got…" with absolutely no tact at all, Ron pointed dumbly to Harry's forehead.

Harry pulled his bangs back and Ron stared. Unfortunately, Harry said almost immediately that he didn't remember the incident except for the color green. He seemed more interested in Ron, actually.

"Are all your family wizards?" Ron answered yes.

"I heard you went to live with Muggles, what are they like?"

"Horrible—well, not all of them." Ron learned that Harry's family was called the Dursleys, his aunt and uncle and cousin, and that he had never known about the wizarding world before his letter had arrived. "Wish I'd had three wizard brothers," he admitted.

"Five," Ron answered gloomily. He explained how all of them had gone before him and all of them had done very well at Hogwarts. "Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first." Ron explained that most of what he had was secondhand, looking longingly at Harry's healthy-looking owl and obviously brand-new trunk. The owl hooted softly as Ron introduced Harry to Scabbers.

Harry explained how utterly Muggle his childhood had been, and how the Dursleys had treated him like the help, which lifted Ron's spirits a bit, as it meant that they were on the same level. "Until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort—" Ron gasped. "What?"

"_You said You-Know-Who's name!_" Ron was flabbergasted. Harry obviously didn't understand how much fear that name carried.

"See what I mean? I've got loads to learn. I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be." Ron explained to him how many of the students of Hogwarts were Muggle-born and had just as little experience as he seemed to have had.

The conversation died as they watched the countryside fly by. It stayed quiet until a woman pushing a food cart looked in to see if they wanted anything to eat. Ron denied politely, holding up the sandwiches his mother had made him, but Harry pulled out more gold than Ron had ever seen at one time in his life and bought some of everything for them to share. He admitted that he was starving and was intent on sharing with Ron.

Ron could tell that he had probably never had the opportunity to share with anyone, simply because he had never had anything to share, and was grateful that he was so immediately generous. As they ate, Ron explained about all the different types of candy, like Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and how to collect Chocolate Frog cards. Harry explained that Muggle photographs stood completely still all the time when his picture of Dumbledore up and walked out of the frame.

After a while, a portly boy who was almost in tears knocked on the compartment door. "Have you seen a toad at all?" he asked shakily, lamenting that he had lost his pet when they replied that they had not.

"He'll turn up," Harry told him uncomfortably. They promised to keep an eye out for the toad and the boy left.

"I don't know why he's so bothered," Ron said to Harry, looking at Scabbers. "If I'd brought a toad I'd lose it as quickly as I could. Mind you, I brought Scabbers, so I can't talk."

A bushy-haired girl blew into their compartment, interrupting Ron's explanation of a spell that was supposed to turn the rat yellow. "Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," she said matter-of-factly. Ron tried to tell her that they had already told the boy that they hadn't seen it, but she interrupted him. "Oh, are you doing magic? Let's see, then."

Ron exchanged a look with Harry and agreed.

"_Sunshine, daisies, butter, mellow,_

_Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow._"

Nothing happened. The girl remarked that it probably wasn't a real spell and told them in a very Percy-like manner that she had already tried a few simple spells, but that they had all been fine for her. Harry and Ron looked at each other, amazed, when she admitted to having memorized the textbooks. "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?" It was as if she needn't breathe.

"I'm Ron Weasley," Ron told her quietly.

"Harry Potter," Harry was beginning to look amused.

"Are you really?" She was very interested at that, informing him that his name was in several of the books that she had read about the wizarding world—she was a Muggle-born. She was very excited to tell them that she was intent on becoming a Gryffindor, though Ravenclaw was okay with her as well. She left after that, telling them as she went that it was probably time for them to change into their robes.

"What house are your brothers in?" Harry asked Ron.

"Gryffindor. Mum and dad were in it, too. I don't know what they'll say if I'm not." They talked about houses for a moment, then Harry asked what wizards did once they were done with school. "Charlie's in Romania studying dragons, and Bill's in Africa doing something for Gringotts." Ron's mind jumped to a news article he had seen in the _Prophet_ a few days ago. "Did you hear about Gringotts?" Harry shook his head. "Someone tried to rob a high security vault."

The weird part about the story, Ron informed Harry, was that nothing seemed to have been taken and nobody had been caught for the breach. Ron forgot momentarily that Harry was basically a Muggle-born, asking, "What's your Quidditch team?" Once he realized that Harry would have no way of knowing any, Ron enthused, "You wait! It's the best game in the world." Most of his explanation went over Harry's head as he talked him through how it was played. Harry was saved, or so it seemed, by a blonde boy and two thug-like companions entering the compartment.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?" Ron recognized this boy. It was Lucius Malfoy's son, one of dad's coworkers at the Ministry. The Malfoys were pureblood and about as wizard-supremacist as it was possible to be. Harry declined his offer for 'friendship,' which made Malfoy both confused and frustrated.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter, unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents." He went on to insult Harry, Ron and Rubeus Hagrid in the same sentence. Taunting them, one of the two boys—Goyle, Malfoy had said—reached for their stack of sweets. Out of nowhere, Scabbers bit Goyle's finger and caused such a ruckus that the three fled from the compartment and Hermione Granger returned, a very condescending look on her face. They insisted that it had not really been a fight, and asked her to leave so that they could change into their robes.

The train reached Hogsmeade Station after darkness had fallen. The first years were shepherded into boats for their inaugural trip across the Black Lake, looking starry-eyed up at the castle all the while. Older students traditionally rode in the carriages up to the school. As Ron looked back at the train from the boat he shared with Harry, Neville and Hermione, he saw what looked like house elves unloading students' luggage and taking it up by magic to the school.

They reached the opposite shore, docked in a sort of grotto, and approached the castle doors, led by Hagrid. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, waiting with baited breath as the gamekeeper knocked three times and stood back to wait.


	7. Sporting the Hat

**A/N**: sorry that it's taken so long! I've been SO busy with school and college apps, but here you go!

* * *

A woman that could only be the infamous Professor McGonagall opened the heavy castle doors at Hagrid's knocking. Twelve times the size of the Burrow, the entrance hall intimidated the first years as they made their way nervously after her swishing emerald robes. Instead of leading them to the large doors from behind which noise could be heard, McGonagall opened a smaller door to a plain, empty room, ushering in the new students who were huddled together like penguins.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she began, reiterating what Ron's older brothers had told him before: being sorted at the welcome feast, the four houses, house points, and, Ron's stomach turning over, that the sorting ceremony would take place in front of the entire school. Leaving them to "smarten yourselves up," she exited and chatter broke out among the nervous eleven-year-olds. Harry turned to Ron and asked him how they would be sorted.

"Some sort of test, I think." He was sure that he must be just as pale as Harry was at the moment. If it was possible, Harry became even paler as several of the first years screamed. Looking around, Ron saw a few ghosts gliding through the wall, obviously in the middle of deep conversation. It took them a few moments to notice the children.

"New students!" a fat ghost of a monk exclaimed, "about to be sorted, I suppose?" Ron was used to ghosts, having grown up in the wizarding world, but they were still creepy. After remarking on which houses they would end up in, McGonagall returned to usher the ghosts through the other wall in preparation for the entrance of the new students into the Great Hall.

Forming a shaky line, they were led in front of the school to the top of the hall where a stage seating the faculty was set. Ron marveled at just how much gold glinted around the hall, be it plates, goblets, cutlery, and took in the fully candlelit hall with a ceiling that mirrored the night sky above it so well that you could barely tell where the walls ended and the cosmos began. Professor McGonagall put a stool and a pointed wizard's hat that was even more ragged that Mr. Weasley's in front of them, in full view of the school. What Ron took as a somewhat awkward silence was broken moments later by the hat opening its rip, serving as a mouth, and beginning to warble through a song outlining the houses and their respective characters.

_You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart._

This was the only line that Ron seemed to take in fully. Everyone was looking at the hat, but he felt as if everyone were looking at him. Was he brave enough for Gryffindor? He did not feel courageous, daring, or chivalrous at the moment with a thousand pairs of eyes fixed on him. Finally, the song of epic length ended and applause rang out like an explosion. Professor McGonagall returned to the front and began reading off names in alphabetical order for sorting. Three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, two Gryffindors, and a Slytherin were sorted before the bushy-haired Hermione from the train took the stool. Placing the hat on her head as each had done before her, she waited, shaking, for the verdict. _Not Gryffindor,_ Ron prayed silently, wishing that she would not be in the same house that he had longed for since comprehension of the word "Hogwarts."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron groaned. Unsurprisingly, she took her place at the Gryffindor table beside Percy as the next prospective student donned the ragged hat. Slowly, the group thinned (Harry was placed in Gryffindor as well) until only Ron and one other boy remained. Nervously, Ron stumbled to the stool and pulled the hat over his head. It was so large that it covered his entire face. He no longer cared about the school watching; all he was concerned about was whether or not he would live up to his family and whether or not he would be allowed to stay with his only new friend. Whispering in his very head, he heard the consciousness of the hat debating his fate as nonchalantly as if they were discussing the weather. "Weasley, I remember your whole family. Will you compare? I see loyalty in you, a thirst for justice… perhaps you are best suited for Hufflepuff…" Ron's stomach turned over. This was it; this was the end, the final embarrassment, being placed in Hufflepuff—"But, wait." Ron couldn't breathe.

"I see much more in you, Ron Weasley. You are undeniably good. Show me that I am not wrong; you have something greater in you, boy, something more brave than I have seen in any of your brothers." All this took less than a second, until, finally, the hat's shrill voice rang out to the rest of the audience.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Ron was nearly in tears. Stumbling blindly, he found himself beaming, sitting next to Harry, Fred and George at the Gryffindor table as the whole house cheered. The rest of the feast passed as a blur, ghosts and new classmates telling stories and introducing themselves all around the hall. Harry and Hermione were chatting with Percy when Harry suddenly called out in pain and clutched his forehead, where Ron knew the famous scar lay. He denied any issue, but Ron was still suspicious. Harry saw him looking questioningly and shrugged. Before either could say a word, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard in the world, stood to make an announcement or two. Ron did not remember anything that he said because he was trying instead to memorize every strand of hair, every wrinkle, every glinting of the eye that made the man so special. Ron suddenly realized that the entire hall was suddenly on their feet. Ron rose and caught up with Harry, who, along with the rest of the Gryffindor first years, were following Percy to their new home—the Gryffindor common room.

"Caput Draconis," Percy said smartly to a portrait of a fat lady who swung forward at what was apparently the password. Climbing through the portrait hole, Ron and Harry ran all the way to the top of the boys' tower to the door marked first years. Intending to speak with Harry before bed, Ron's plans were interrupted by his own heavy snores as a combination of exhaustion, excitement and a full stomach prompted him to fall asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.


End file.
